Snow Angel
by Siluial
Summary: [KakaSaku] Cold, dark nights are perfect for reminiscing of the painful past..But they can also be good for letting go...
1. To Let Go

**A/N**: Wrote this for the KakaSaku LiveJournal Community December Feature/Challenge (though, I lost miserably). The pairing is obvious from the name of the community, and really the only guidlines were that a scarf and/or blanket needed to be included in the fic somewhere, and the plotline had to be Konoha's first snowfall in three years.

Well, enjoy, and any feedback you offer is appreciated!

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**Snow Angel**

There had been a chill in the air as of late, wilting the flowers in their beds, hardening the ground into a cold and unforgiving surface that was preferably not landed on. And yet, she found herself on it once more. Her chest rose and fell sharply, and she could see her breath puffing up and away into the darkening air, evanescent smoke carried away on the wind. Like the last few years of her life.

She hauled herself up, feeling joints ache and pop, her whole body protesting, calling blatantly for the rest she would not give it. Grimacing, she kneaded at her shoulders, pink hair like strands of flowing ice against the back of her neck and hand. She knew that she should not be pushing herself so hard, but Sakura relied less on her common sense nowadays. She still felt so weak, the past six years she had spent training to become a medic-nin appeared almost as a waste in her mind. She was a strong healer, for sure, but she was still, physically, the weak twelve-year-old she had been. So what if she had passed both the chuunin and jounin exams? They were worthless to her. She had needed help for those. She was so weak when relying on her own strength.

The training grounds had been deserted for hours, no one to bear witness to her struggle. No one had really seen her in so long. Naruto - off training with Jiraiya. Kakashi - away constantly on high-level missions, Konoha _still _struggling from Orochimaru's attack from years ago. And him...._ him_...

Her team had shattered. The family she had found in them, the camaraderie and companionship, gone in a moment. Gone when she really realized that she was so weak and helpless because she had to watch _him_ walk away, without being able to lift a finger. Really, it was her whole life; it was broken.

She moved briskly, body flowing into a complex series of taijutsu maneuvers, arms arching, legs twisting, like some dance. Her torso whipped around, her eyes slitted against the cold, her hands frozen on her wrists, her toes curled tightly to her feet. Sweat ran down her face, giving her shivers from the mix of warm skin and cold air. She blinked her weariness away and kicked high, back flipping, soaring through the air, landing. Her throat was so raw that each breath was a stab into her chest. Deciding she'd rather go home and face defeat than collapse and end up sleeping outside, Sakura gathered up her weaponry and turned in the direction of home.

She walked slowly, eyes moving over the blue-white of the ground and buildings, over the peace and quiet of it all. It was so still that it was akin to death. She loved it. She loved the long walk home without a soul out to bother her along the way. It gave her time to think about the past, about the present and the future. It was painful to think of any of it, but she did it anyway.

Feet padding softly against the pavement, her eyes moved over familiar places that were full of memories. The Ichiraku Ramen shop was shuttered against the night, the playground where she had played as a child stood empty. She approached a familiar bench along the side of the road, and she stopped momentarily in front of it. Smiling, but not at all in a happy way, Sakura reached out to touch the rough wood and smooth, cold metal of the bench, and shuddered at the contact. Withdrawing her hand, she closed her eyes and saw the pale face and black hair that she had lost so long ago.

Looking beyond the bench at the small hill and monstrous tree sitting atop it, she recalled a time many years past. She remembered the day so vividly, though it was such an insignificant and unimportant event. It had been mid-afternoon in the winter, and Sakura had been on her way home from the market, her mother's requested purchases bagged and swinging from her hand. She had been bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf that day, because there was a little snow on the ground, and more to come. Someone shouted her name, and Naruto came running up to her side, all smiles and talkative as ever. She had smiled at him in turn, and walked slowly together. Snowflakes began to drift around them, landing and catching in their hair and clothing. She had looked at Naruto, giggling as a snowflake melted on his nose, and questioned him easily when he stared at her. He had smiled widely and responded in his carefree voice:

"_With all that snow in you hair, you look like a snow-angel, Sakura-chan."_

She had blushed furiously and, when he wasn't looking, she stuffed a snowball down the back of his shirt. He, of course, returned the favor, tossing snowballs at her while she shrieked and ducked for cover. As he took aim once more, a snowball had smacked him right in the side of the head. He had complained loudly and turned to see who had done it. Sakura looked as well, and was shocked to see Sasuke standing there, wrapped in his own coat. Naruto retaliated, and Sasuke dodged, and it all became a game for them. Sakura didn't question why Sasuke was playing along, but enjoyed the moment while it lasted, leaping up into a tree to avoid the flying snow. Sasuke jogged up to the tree, running by, and in that moment had looked up and Sakura saw for a spilt second, just the tiniest moment of time – there had been a smile on his face. A tiny lifting of the lips, but a smile all the same. She supposed that that was why the seemingly miniscule event had become something worth remembering, even six years later.

Sakura forcefully pulled herself from the reverie. All she did these days was daydream. It was all she had left of her teammates. And standing there in the bitter cold, she realized how truly lonely she was. She missed Naruto and Sasuke and Kakashi so much that it hurt her.

She was close to her little apartment, and the stinging cold had turned all her body to ice, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She would have laughed had she realized how much of a memorial stone that this bench had become to her, and how she must have looked like Kakashi, standing in front of it night after night. However, tonight the reminiscing didn't seem so bad. She had even remembered something good, so simple as a memory of a romp in the snow. She felt a little better than she had in a long time. And as she stood, she began recalling more and more cherished memories, until all the bad things she had seen and felt seemed tiny in comparison.

She knew she wouldn't cry, but something inside her was tearing, breaking, and she had a horrible feeling that this is what it was like to let go. Her shoulders were shaking. Her breath puffed out in little clouds faster and harder than before.

Something was dropped around her shoulders, and she jerked around to face whatever it was. The blanket fell to the ground, and she looked at it in wonderment. Two feet stood next to it, and her eyes traveled up the legs, up the chest, to the face. And she nearly cried out. There stood no other than Kakashi, smiling softly at her, judging by the curve of his visible eye. And in the blink of an eye, she was moving to him, and she was pleased to see his arms open wide.

His arms closed securely around her, and she clung to him, cold nose pressed hard into his neck. She distantly heard him speak, voice quiet in the night. "Sorry I'm late, Sakura. I got lost on the road of life…" And she laughed, genuinely for the first time in years, laughed, even as she felt feather light touches on her skin. Looking up at his long-missed and dear face, she watched the snow blanket him, dusting his hair and shoulders. As she looked at the sky, letting loose it's torrent of white flakes, she felt him release her, and heard him shaking the discarded blanket out. Moments later, it was wrapped securely around her. He came back into her field of vision. And she was struck with a thought, which she voiced.

"Haha, Sensei, you look like a snow-angel."

He led her home, smiling at her childish entertainment with the snow, smiling because she had the face of one who was finally ready to move on. And now that he was back, he would make sure to be there to help her untie the strings of the past from her, so that she could begin to look ahead and not behind.

The snow fell about them, and as they passed down the street, it closed behind them like a blazing white curtain.


	2. To Hold On

_**A/N:** Everyone fed me lovely reviews on Snow Angel, so I aim to please once more. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you so much for the feedback. It's what gave me the patience and determination to think, "this isn't finished, it needs another chapter", and to then act on it._

_I love you all._

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**Snow Angel**

**Chapter 2 **

The summer had been slow in coming, sunshine and warmth hiding, revealing themselves only in small patches until they were forced out in the open. As retribution, the sun and heat came full blast, silently laughing at all those who had wished for their arrival so fervently. Plants grew as if the world would end, overflowing their beds and spilling onto walkways and paths. Thick grass, when cut, seemed to grow back overnight even taller and lusher than before. Tree branches hung heavily under the weight of vivid green leaves, waving in the breeze with a strange fluttering song.

The thud of footfalls on wood and earth rang around the field, hanging practice dummies swaying lightly in the breeze, button eyes shiny and blank. Shadows flashed along the ground, against tree trunks, through the leaves. Bright glares of sunlight against metal burned through the air.

Pink hair flying, Sakura vaulted from her tree, flipping through the air, body arching smoothly and easily as she flew. Her vivid green eyes closed in concentration as her feet felt the shock of her landing, taking all the force in such a way that her legs didn't waver in the slightest. _There,_ she thought, body whipping around, arms raising her blade to deflect the attack aimed at her back. Her opponent's blade slid along her own, and as soon as they were separate, hers came upward in a powerful slash. She succeeded in only slicing leaves in two as her opponent flipped backward and kicked up greenery from the ground.

Continuing his fluid motion into another back flip, Kakashi viewed his former student from a somewhat upside-down aerial position. He hadn't begun to fall back to earth or even move from his feet up position when she used some chakra to push up off the ground to meet him, swords clashing awkwardly due to the way they were positioned. Sweat stood out on their faces as they dropped, slipping into the foliage of a tree below them and propelling off branches to clear themselves of the obstacle is presented.

Landing on the ground in a crouch, his eye swung about to locate the pink haired konoichi he was fighting, when a flash of steel appeared above him. Sakura had flipped over his head and now held him at sword point, sharp tip resting against his collarbone and the tree against his back ensuring his inability to escape.

"Say it..." she teased, smiling down at him, free arm planted on her hip, pink hair blowing around her furiously as the breeze picked up. Even under his mask, she could see his nose crinkle, see his lips pout playfully. She'd gotten even better at reading him over the past two years...

But obviously not well enough to know when he had some trick up his sleeve.

In the blink of an eye, he had ducked under he blade, knocked it from her hand, flung his own blade away and lunged. His body pinned hers down, straddling her thighs, knees cinched tight to her sides and feet locking her legs together. His hands gripped her wrists firmly. Her surveyed her lazily through both eyes, his headband having fallen off somewhere during their training. He was breathing heavily, and now he could feel that she was, too, and her eyes were wide for a moment in shock, then narrowed into a frown.

"Say what, Sakura" She glowered at him playfully, sticking her tongue out and looking up into his eyes, mostly hidden in his silvery fall of hair. The breeze picked up again, and he sat back, letting her go to push the hair from his eyes. Sakura sat up slowly, watching him, and noticed the crimson slice on his shoulder.

"Ah, sensei! Look, you're hurt." She shuffled forward on her knees, pushing his arm down and surveying the cut. It was obviously from when he had ducked her blade; the wound rested right where her blade had been.

She moved towards him, settling between his outstretched legs and rising up onto her knees to get a good view of his shoulder. Her eyes flickered to his briefly, and, reading the apology there, he offered a small smile of comfort, silently letting her know it was all right. Her fingers moved lightly over the wound, wiping away blood, and then moving to tug on the hem of his shirt. Calmly, he allowed her to lift it, maneuvering his arm out of the sleeve and pushing it to rest against his neck.

Her face was close enough to him that he could feel the warmth of her breath fanning across his skin, and he allowed his eyes to drop closed and his head to fall back against the tree. Clearing his mind, he focused only on the feel of her hands, of her chakra weaving so delicately into his skin, pushing all the thoughts he felt from having her this close to him. He felt so…guilty. Carefully, he cracked an eye, watching her pink hair blow about her face, watching her eyes and face screw in concentration as she repaired the damage.

His brows furrowed as he looked on her, his eyes felt funny, as if they were burning. The feeling passed, but her continued to gaze at her, mind glancing over the past year and a half he had spent with her. In training, she was so much more than he could have imagined; she was strong, both in mind and body, skilled, able to improvise at a moment's notice. She had grown into an incredibly versatile shinobi; he was impressed.

And, with a hint of mixed emotion, he noted that she had become increasingly less and less detached from her work, her life. She smiled so much now. They had grown in intensity and genuineness ever since that cold day he had found her standing in the falling snow. The bitterness was a tiny thing mixed into her smiled now, hard to find unless you knew her well. She was becoming a remnant of her old self.

"There. Does it hurt?" Her question startled him out of his thoughts, thankful for the mask that hid his slightly coloring face due to that fact that he had been staring intently at her. Blearily, he shook his head, wincing at the slight pain that lanced not through his shoulder, but his left eye. Reaching up to rub at it slightly, he frowned. The Sharingan had been used quite extensively recently; proof of his increasing difficulty to ward off her attacks.

He chanced a glance at her as they stood, at her pursed lips and creased brow. Her hand came up and tugged his away from his face, her cool palm resting against the eyelid. And as quickly as the pain had come, it went, evaporating into nothingness with the feel of her smooth chakra passing in a wave.

Softly, she pulled her hand away, turning to walk leisurely over to her pile of stuff several feet away. Dropping her hitae-ate around her neck, she then sheathed her blade and slung it over her shoulder. Lazily, she began loping away, raising a hand in farewell and tossing over her shoulder, "I've got a mission. See you in a couple of days."

He stood, watching her back as she disappeared into the trees.

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"Ah, Kakashi-san. How was the mission?"

Iruka took the folder containing Kakashi's report, smiling in greeting. The silver haired jounin shrugged, exchanged a few words with the chuunin behind the desk then turned to leave. A voice called to him as he hit the door. Turning back, he spotted Genma sitting off along the wall, seated out on a couch with a cup of coffee and a mission file before him on the table.

Kakashi sidled up to his friend, dropping onto the opposite end of the couch. "How'd it go?" The senbon in Genma's mouth bounced with his words.

Kakashi loosened his hitae-ate and let it fall around his neck. Rubbing at the Sharingan and wincing at the newly arrived pain, he replied. "Same as usual. The rich, fat guy that employed us was clueless and nearly got himself killed, instead of negotiating a peaceful talk." He leaned forward and glanced down at the file on the table. "Headed for Sand, eh?"

Genma nodded tiredly, heaving a sigh. "Yep. Hate it there. Too sandy, the liquor blows and all the women are colder than a lake in winter."

They bantered for a while, trading news and info, greeting shinobi they knew that entered or left. Finally, Kakashi stood, tying his headband back on. "Guess I'll stop by and see Sakura. Should be back from her mission by now."

"Wait, what are you talking about? What mission?" Genma's response gave him pause. He turned back, visible eyebrow drawing sharply downwards. His silence was all the prompt the brown-haired jounin to continue.

"I don't know what she told you, but she's not on any mission. She's participating in the ANBU acceptance exams."

Kakashi disappeared in a whirlwind.

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"Anko! Ibiki!"

The exam moderators looked up sharply as the door banged open. The television monitor they had been observing crackled loudly, flickered, and continued its feed. Kakashi strode up to the table they sat around, slammed his hand down hard on its surface. "Where the _hell_ is she?"

Ibiki grinned sarcastically. "Calm down, Daddy." Anko added, eyes dancing, "I'm surprised it took you this long to get here." She turned to Ibiki, held out her hand, and when he placed a small pile of currency in her hand, she beamed and stuffed it into her pocket.

Kakashi crossed his arms, fuming silently. Ibiki turned back to him, standing. "Relax, Hatake." Before the silver haired jounin could reply, he spoke again. "She'll be fine. Don't treat her like a kid."

"Who recommended her for the selection? Who backed her?" Kakashi tensed even further.

Anko replied this time, raising her legs up onto the desk and crossing her ankles. "The Hokage herself. Couldn't deny the girl when she's got Tsunade behind her." Kakashi dropped back into a chair somewhere behind him, rubbing his temple and frowning.

Ibiki's voice sounded somewhere near his right, softer than normal, an exact opposite of his thoughts. "She was ready. Almost a year under you, six years under Tsunade, then again with you for a year and a half. The girl was more than ready. You haven't seen her fight on missions like I have. Holding her back would have been a mistake."

"More than ready may have been an understatement," Anko drawled lazily from her seat at the table, head perched on one hand and body slumped to the side, dango stick poking from her mouth thoughtfully. Ibiki and Kakashi's eyes snapped up, and they moved to the table, staring wide-mouthed at the small monitor on the tabletop.

Black and white images raced on and off screen, flurries of bodies and weapons and chakra rolling around in a unorganized pattern. Men and women alike locked in combat, broke away, falling and rising, or sometimes not rising again at all.

"Looks like they hit the center of the forest. Here's hoping that someone worthy gets that scroll." The wooden skewer in Anko's mouth jiggled up and down as she murmured, eyes riveted to one light-haired jounin in particular. Her body took few hits; she gave out many, some so fast that she was a blur. Her body moved fluidly, springing from tree to ground to air, fingers and hands moving nimbly, forming seals and releasing jutsus.

Kakashi's eye widened as several opponents swamped her at once, one of them jerking a silvery wire at her arms. Her left wrist was captured, and as the male jounin moved around her, the entire arm was pulled until it was wrenched against her back tightly. As all combatants surrounding her prepared to move inward for the final blows, the light haired female did something that brought an audible gasp from the three watching on the monitor.

Fingers twisting and bending, hand jerking wildly at the wrist in different directions, Sakura performed a set of unfamiliar seals with her right hand only. Her mouth opened wide and formed words, the silent monitor not giving any hint as to what was shouted. Her body dropped down, palm smashing hard against the ground.

Light flashed, the screen shook violently, and then flickered into blackness.

The clearing at the center of the forest was a ungodly mess, ground torn up and trees sitting at odd angles. A dozen exam moderators moved into the area, darting through the smoke, calling a medical team to see to the wounded. The thick dust settled finally, allowing the view of a bloody, dirty young woman mounting the few stone stairs that led to the case that the scroll laid in.

Anko made it before the two other men, skidding to a halt at the bottom of the steps. She smiled, crossing her arms across her open coat. Sakura, after lifting the heavy lid of the box, turned with the scroll in her hand. She hopped down the steps, and, beaming, handed the roll of parchment to Anko.

"Mission completed?"

"Yeah, you did good, kid," Anko replied warmly, raising her hand to squeeze the girl's shoulder gently. An almost unnoticeable, un-Anko-like emotion shone in her eyes. Pride.

The moment the scroll was in Anko's hands, a pair of arms suddenly crushed her against a hard chest. Smiling, she turned in Kakashi's grip, arms uncurling and going about his back, squeezing tightly. His face was pressed into her neck, and he was shaking. Softly, one hand crept up into his hair, stroking slowly. She smiled lightly, knowing he would feel it.

"I know, I know. I should have told you." The smile dropped a little. "But I didn't want you to know In case I didn't make it. I didn't want you to be disappointed, and to feel bad when I didn't pass. I don't think I'd be able to take that, not like I used to."

He pulled back, wanting to say so many things, mouth forming words. _You have **never** disappointed me. You've never given me a reason to do anything but be proud of you._ Instead, his hand came up, ripped the mask down off his face. His mouth was on hers in a flash, pressing hard, then easing up when she didn't respond immediately. He was preparing to pull away when her arm moved, hand going deep in his hair and pushing his lips closer to hers.

Emotion burned throughout both their bodies, making limbs tingle, centering low in their bellies, making their heads light. The moment they parted for breath, her cheeks colored deeply, and she crushed her face to his chest. But not before he saw the wide, content smile light up her face.

As he held her to him, rubbing her back and hair thoughtfully, he smiled as well, smooth skin and face uncovered and handsome in the open air. He'd been waiting for that smile of hers for so long.

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_Fin. _

_Anybody notice my pattern? A one shot morphs into a two-chapter story. There is no hope for me. _

_Hmm. Less angst this time around, too. My inner romantic came out to play. It's had a lovely time frolicking around in Microsoft Word, so methinks that it merits a nice, long nap now. To bed with you._


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